


dyed in your colors

by lovelight (Delenaley)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Childhood Friends, Fictional Religion & Theology, M/M, Magical Realism, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:49:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26615494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delenaley/pseuds/lovelight
Summary: Jongdae's heart, like his home, is packed to the brim with spirits and familiars—but it will always have room for Kyungsoo.
Relationships: Do Kyungsoo | D.O/Kim Jongdae | Chen
Comments: 15
Kudos: 56
Collections: Shall we Chen? Fictional Fest First Round





	dyed in your colors

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt #SWC361:** Jongdae is a witch who has a lot of familiars/ghosts/spirits keeping him company. One day, he falls in love with a powerful wizard that's passing by his area.
> 
> To the prompter, I had so much fun coming up with this universe and all the lores, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. Sorry if it seems a bit messy, I tried my best. To the mods, thank you so much for organizing this fest for our lovely Jongdae, and for being patient with my extensions 😅 Last but not least, BIG THANKS to Lex, who beta'ed this in such a short notice, then sorting through the mess and turning it into something magical~ 
> 
> Title from EXO's Butterfly Effect ✨

✿

“Yeol, stop hovering."

"I'm not hovering."

Jongdae sighs, closing the curtain once the figure fades from view. He turns around and immediately comes face to face with the spirit's translucent chest. "I'm honestly curious as to what you consider hovering."

Chanyeol smiles down at him sheepishly. "I'm just curious!" he exclaims, "you've been peeping through the window a lot these past few days."

"It's not peeping!" Jongdae protests, pushing Chanyeol aside and making his way over to the kitchen island.

Chanyeol sits down across Jongdae, crossing his arms. The light from the small window behind him makes him look even more translucent, nearly angel-like. Jongdae knows he's far from that, though. Mischievous little shit.

"But when Yifan and I observe, it’s ‘peeping’?" 

Jongdae has half the mind to grab the fruit nearby and throw it at Chanyeol, but soon realizes it would go through Chanyeol anyway and it would be a waste, both the fruit and Jongdae's own efforts.

"Because you both _are_ peeping!" Jongdae says. "You two watch our neighbor work out in his backyard through a tiny space in our fence, anyone in their right minds would be creeped out by that!"

"Can you blame us?" Chanyeol throws his hands in the air. "Have you _seen_ Yixing?"

Jongdae snorts. Of course he has. As if Yifan and Chanyeol don't pester him nearly every day to go over and visit the guy just so they can ogle him up close. Jongdae has already run out of excuses, he's used up all his 'friendly new neighbour' and 'curious newcomer' excuses. Besides, he's been in the neighbourhood long enough to not be considered new anymore.

And as much as Jongdae enjoys socializing, he prefers to do it on his home turf. Where he feels safest and comfortable. Jongdae isn't precisely the most conventional of witches, with his ragtag bunch of familiars, probably enough to make his own coven. Especially when at least two always insist on accompanying him outside, and right now, _two_ out of all of them are crushing hard on his _divine_ cosmic witch neighbor.

"I have," Jongdae says, rolling his eyes. "Gorgeous, but not my style."

Chanyeol rolls his eyes. “Yeah,” he snorts, “because your style is mysterious caped wizards who apparently haunt our neighbourhood."

Jongdae squawks. “I’m not _into_ him! I’m just curious about what he’s doing!”

“Come on, Dae,” Chanyeol leans forward, grinning suggestively, there’s a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “I’ve seen his ass.”

Jongdae groans and stares at the fruit bowl with contemplation. No one eats oranges in this house, Yifan simply likes the color and thought it would compliment the bowl’s assortment. No one would miss a lone orange, thrown through Chanyeol’s translucent form in the heat of the moment. Yifan would probably understand, he loves Jongdae that much.

“Aren’t you curious, as well?” Jongdae retaliates, changing the topic. Chanyeol doesn’t need to know exactly _who_ the stranger is to Jongdae yet, he can’t bear to even think of what Chanyeol and Yifan’s reaction might be.

So he changes course. “This guy just walks through our neighbourhood, once every few days, _always_ after sunset, and disappears to the woods every single time. He doesn’t even live nearby, because if he did, either Sehun, Zitao or Luhan would’ve said something by now. We have never even seen him return from the woods! He just shows up two days after or whatever and does the exact same thing.”

Chanyeol rubs his chin, gear visibly turning in his big ass see-through head. After a few seconds, he stops, and looks at Jongdae with a serious expression. “You’re right, he could be dangerous. Maybe Yifan and I could try to look into it?”

“What are you two gossiping about?” Yifan asks, leaning on the kitchen island, acting like he’s been there all the time and did not just appear out of thin air upon the mention of his name. Spending a decade being hovered by the two has caused Jongdae to grow immune to their antics. Though the first time the both of them did it, fourteen year-old Jongdae nearly jumped out of his skin.

Certain witches could do it, apparate, or teleport whenever and wherever they want. Though it isn’t common, as it takes a huge amount of untethered magic, and the person performing it has to have a solid connection between two worlds. Jongdae’s little brother, Jongin, is one of the witches capable of doing so—but Jongdae doesn’t want to think about it, the possibility of Jongin being a hedge witch. 

It’s too much responsibility, too big of a destiny for his baby brother. Jongin hasn’t even graduated from the witch academy. 

An insistent voice in his head reminds him that the mysterious neighborhood witch was capable of the same thing as well. Jongdae’s seen him do it. Not as a twenty-four year old peeking through the window, but as a seventeen year-old in his fourth year of academy, witnessing his old friend from Earth House break down in the greenhouse.

“Nothing.” Jongdae shakes his head, and holds up his hand as a warning when Chanyeol looks like he’s about to protest. “It’s fine. You can investigate only when he’s shown signs of being a threat. Otherwise, stay put. We don’t know if someone from the neighborhood might’ve hired him or something.”

The words tasted stale in his mouth. It was highly unlikely. Especially if he was still the same man from seven years ago. Jongdae should change the topic before he starts sweating out of nervousness, and that would definitely make Chanyeol and Yifan suspicious.

He turns to Yifan. “Where have you been?”

“Out.” Yifan hums, eyes looking anywhere but Jongdae. He’s trying to feign nonchalance and it’s obviously failing.

Jongdae narrows his eyes. “Out where?”

“Next door,” Yifan squeaks, straightening up. If spirits could blush, Jongdae’s convinced Yifan would be as red as a tomato.

Chanyeol’s eyes go round, he gasps, “You were talking to Yixing, weren’t you? Without _me_?!”

“I was hanging out with Han on the edge of the forest and he showed up!” Yifan protests. “It’s not like I did it on purpose.”

Jongdae chuckles and quietly takes his leave. Knowing Yifan and Chanyeol, they could go on for hours. He sighs in relief, the topic is evaded, stored for another day. 

✿

It’s been raining the entire day. Thunder crackles in the distance, accompanied by flashes of lightning that lights up Jongdae’s living room even through the curtains. 

The storm raging outside has made it impossible for Jongdae to do anything besides staying inside and keeping himself cocooned under the blankets. Fortunately, it’s the weekend. He doesn’t mind the weather, though. Even as a child, thunder and lightning never scared him the way it did his brothers. One of his mothers used to say he _giggled_ whenever he heard thunder. 

It was odd, but nothing about Jongdae’s growth had been normal, anyway. He adopted two spirits as his caregiver when he was fourteen, became a full-fledged potions master at the age of nineteen, and has more familiars than anyone he knows at age twenty-four. That was just his life. 

He tended to his indoor plants, and occasionally checked on his outdoor ones through the window to see if anything had been knocked over. Thankfully, they’re all still standing proud. His cauldron, however, is filled to the brim, the rainwater overflowing and spilling to the ground. Jongdae’s gonna need Yixing’s help to pour it out tomorrow. Moon knows his guardian spirits are useless when it comes to particularly heavy objects, the work exerting too much of their spiritual energy.

So far, the pouring rain has been harsh, but the wind wasn’t as severe as it normally was at the end of the year. 

Sehun, his orange tabby cat familiar, is sitting on the couch, curled up on Chanyeol’s lap, said spirit tinkering with a crystal, unbothered. Yifan is standing on the corner of the room, browsing books with Zitao perched on his shoulder, squawking whenever Yifan settles on something he doesn’t like. Yifan grumbles and rolls his eyes, but changes his picks nevertheless. 

The crow had taken shelter as soon as the rain started to become heavier this morning. Usually he’d spend the nights wandering around the woods with Luhan.

Which reminds Jongdae. He can’t help but worry, wondering the whereabouts of the particular familiar during this heavy storm. He hopes Luhan is somewhere safe, away from the rain and wind. 

There’s a thud on his back door, and a sense of urgency tugs at Jongdae’s chest. 

He rushes over without checking through the window, he already knows who it is.

“Han.” 

Speak of the devil. The deer is standing on the back porch of Jongdae’s home, every bit of his fur drenched—Jongdae would’ve been more worried about the animal’s wellbeing if it weren’t for the sheer alarm in his beady black eyes. 

_Hurry,_ Jongdae hears at the back of his mind. _Hurry, Jongdae. Hurry, hurry._

“What happened, Han?” He shivers, the cold from the outside breezing through his clothes. They’re safe under the roof, raindrops unable to hit where they are, but Jongdae figured that Luhan wouldn’t come in unless urged either. 

There are matters to attend to, first. 

_A witch. Injured. Save him, Jongdae. Save him._

"Where?" 

Luhan turns around and cranes his neck toward the forest, signalling for Jongdae to follow him there. 

"Yifan!" Jongdae calls. 

The spirit appears beside him in an instant, holding a bright yellow raincoat in hand. 

"Here," he says. "Chanyeol and the familiars will take care of the house. I'll come with you." 

"Thank you." Jongdae nods and slips on the raincoat before walking out. Yifan closes the door behind him and seals it with a basic security spell.

They trudge through the forest with considerable difficulty. 

The earth is wet and slippery, Jongdae has stumbled more than he can count since they entered, Yifan holding a tight grip on his hand to keep him from diving headfirst into the mud; and he could barely see through the heavy rainfall pouring down on them nonstop, the darkness from the storm cloud overhead not helping in any way either. 

Logically, he knew it was only a little past noon, but if anyone told Jongdae it was nearing dusk, he would believe them. 

It felt like forever before Luhan stops walking, ears perking up as soon as they make it to some sort of clearing deep in the forest, right on the foot of the hills separating this district from the next. He looks back at Jongdae, then points his nose at a spot not too far from where they are standing. 

Jongdae feels Yifan still beside him, and immediately understands as soon as he’s able to comprehend the sight before them. Of course Yifan could sense it as soon as they arrived. The feeling of dread suddenly surrounding them should be familiar to him.

It was a graveyard.

And Yifan—when stripped down to his bare essentials—is a dead thing. 

They barely have time to react to the idea of a _hidden graveyard in the forest,_ when Luhan marches on to the middle of it, swiftly navigating his four legs through the scattered gravestones—oddly incomplete, most having little or even no markings at all. Jongdae holds on tighter to Yifan as they follow the deer, walking along the path with more care than Luhan did.

“This could be dangerous,” Yifan mutters, ducking his head to make sure Jongdae hears him through the rain.

“Han wouldn’t lead us to it if it was,” Jongdae says, keeping his gaze forward. 

Han wouldn’t, for sure, but Jongdae is aware that even as magical as he is, Luhan still had the emotional capacity of a fucking deer; as long as it didn’t charge head on at him, it wouldn’t be considered an immediate threat. 

Luhan stops near what seems to be an old shrine. It was visibly abandoned, and has been that way for quite a long time—the wooden mantle splintered and collapsed in on itself, stones cracked and overgrown with moss. On the foot of the shrine, lies a young man.

Jongdae’s body works faster than his brain, apparently, because in the next second he’s already crouching down next to the body. 

“Kyungsoo,” he breathes out, feeling like the air had been punched out of him. 

Behind him, Yifan makes a sound not unlike a strangled animal. _“Kyungsoo?”_

Jongdae chooses to ignore him. 

“Kyungsoo,” he calls, patting his old friend on the cheeks, trying to wake him up to no avail. 

Kyungsoo was out cold. Jongdae tries not to let his worry seize him. Even so, he’s never seen Kyungsoo in this kind of situation before. The man is one of the strongest witches he’s ever known, to see him knocked out in the middle of a forest like this is jarring. 

“Fan.” He reaches out to the spirit behind him. “Help me get him up.”

Yifan—with the addition of questions and protests, which Jongdae gladly ignores for the time being—helps him carry Kyungsoo, grunting as he hefts the unconscious man's body into his arms, translucent and flickering with how much energy he's exerting. Jongdae stays close, keeps his hand in touch with Yifan, lending him energy to prevent him from completely losing all spiritual power. It's not easy to carry an adult man, let alone when you're merely a spirit. 

Luhan follows at a considerably slower pace as opposed to when he brought them here, covering their backs since they're too preoccupied with Kyungsoo. Jongdae has never been more grateful to have so many spirits and familiars attached to him. 

They make it two steps out of the graveyard when a black hound materializes in front of them. The rain has subsided, but something about the dog seemed off, like it was blurred around the edges; Jongdae can't quite focus on it—as if the dog is not actually physically there. Jongdae doesn’t remember any breed of magical black dogs looking like this. 

Yifan halts, freezing in his tracks. 

"That's a hedge hound."

_Oh._

If he needed any more confirmation, this would be it. He was right, then. Kyungsoo is a hedge witch, which means that he had dropped out of the school due to said reasons. Only hedge witches have spirit hounds as their familiars.

The huge, black dog was eerily silent. Staring at them with heterochromatic eyes—blue on the left and yellow on the right—unblinking and unmoving, head tilted to the side as if assessing whether or not these two beings in front of him could be classified as danger.

"We're not going to hurt him," Jongdae quickly reassures, because if there's one thing he learned from years of acquiring a number of familiars, it’s that they're smart enough to differentiate between whether or not something is a direct threat to their witches. Just like Luhan did when he led them to the graveyard. "I'm going to take him back to my place to treat him, you can come with us." He pauses. "It must be cold outside."

Spirit hounds or not, no animal deserves to be left out in the harsh weather, worried sick as their owner is last seen unconscious. 

The dog blinks, and moves aside to let them pass. Jongdae sighed in relief. 

The trek back to Jongdae’s house takes longer than when they left it. By then, the storm has fully cleared, but the additional—and most likely injured—weight does make them more cautious with every step. Not counting the hound keeping pace with them, walking along beside Yifan with tension clouding its form, like it was ready to snap and bite in case Yifan lets Kyungsoo slip even just a little. 

As soon as they step through the door, Chanyeol instantly notices the way he’s shivering, and starts hovering over him like an anxious hen. After helping Jongdae take off his raincoat, Chanyeol solidifies his translucent spirit form into something closer to a living being, pulling Jongdae close and warming him up from the outside. 

Yifan carefully deposits Kyungsoo on the couch, then brings a palm over his chest, assessing his condition. Behind the couch, Sehun is already glowering at Kyungsoo’s familiar, who seems indifferent about the whole thing. Zitao is nestled comfortably on top of Sehun’s head, right between his ears—Jongdae guesses that must be a contributing factor to the lack of intimidation.

Luhan is, unsurprisingly, nowhere to be seen. He must’ve gone straight back into the forest. Jongdae reminds himself to seek him out in a few days and give him a basket of food or something to thank him.

"How bad is it?" Jongdae asks, teeth closing in on the skin on the edge of his thumb.

Yifan's brows furrow, he seems confused more than anything. "I thought he was somehow electrocuted, or passed out from the shock, but…"

"But what?" Chanyeol pipes up, an arm still slung around Jongdae's shoulder. He’s so grateful of Chanyeol’s attentiveness sometimes.

"He's been out since _before_ it started raining," Yifan breathes, choosing his next words carefully. Beside him, Chanyeol gasps. Jongdae shares the sentiment. It’s been raining since early morning, which means Kyungsoo has been out there, unconscious, since the crack of dawn, or even earlier. "There's signs of spirit influence… of ghosts, I think."

“Is he possessed?” Jongdae asks. 

There are no visible signs of possession, but it doesn’t hurt to be cautious. Considering Kyungsoo is a hedge witch, he would be more susceptible to possessions than other witches, being the gateway of their world and the world of spirits.

Jongdae mentally scours through his inventory and wonders if he has enough ingredients to put together a cleansing potion. He would have to be quick and do it while Kyungsoo’s unconscious, there’s no telling what kind of ghost has taken over someone’s body until they start to move. 

Of course, he could try to do it traditionally instead, with cleansing spells, sigils and a ritual, but—

“Thankfully, no,” Yifan declares, interrupting his train of thought. “They just knocked him out cold.”

Jongdae breathes out in relief.

Chanyeol drags them both closer to where Kyungsoo is laying down, now that he’s confirmed to be ghostless. "Where did you guys find him?"

"An abandoned graveyard deep in the woods," Jongdae answers with hesitance. "It seemed like it belonged to an old congregation. There was a shrine."

Yifan’s head whips toward him, eyes glaring straight at Jongdae. “You called him Kyungsoo.”

Chanyeol gasps again. “Kyungsoo?”

He thinks back to Yifan’s initial reaction in the graveyard. Moon, his guardian spirits does have a penchant for dramatics.

Jongdae fights the urge to groan. “Yes, he’s _The_ Kyungsoo. So what.”

“Your best friend from the academy?” Chanyeol continues asking, eyes growing wider by the second. “The one who dropped out before final year and vanished off the face of the earth? Your crush Kyungsoo?”

 _“Shut the fuck up,”_ Jongdae hisses, swatting Chanyeol on the chest repeatedly. “What if he hears you?”

“I highly doubt it.” Yifan mutters, still sitting on the floor by the couch. “He’s practically comatose.”

Jongdae sighs. “We should probably get him out of those clothes, then.”

They get to work. Yifan continues examining Kyungsoo, confirming that he has no serious external injuries aside from scratches here and there. Jongdae brews some internal healing potions for Kyungsoo to consume once he wakes. Something to replenish his energy and cleanse in case there are any leftovers of ghost influence in him. 

Chanyeol carries Kyungsoo to the guest room and dresses him in Jongdae’s spare clothes. Kyungsoo’s hound follows suit behind them, still as high-strung as when it first appeared. Jongdae briefly contemplates on whether or not he should feed the dog. Jongdae’s animal familiars all had magic, but like all living things, they still needed sustenance. Are spirit hounds alive, or are they like Yifan and Chanyeol? 

Jongdae also finds relief in the fact that he probably won’t be getting any visitors anytime soon. 

It’s exam season, so Jongin won’t be coming over. Junmyeon, too, has been quite busy these days that he’d merely send butterfly messages. Minseok, even though his visits were always impromptu, never stays the night because most of the time he’d bring his sons; and the house is already crowded enough as it is.

And like a good son himself, of course _Jongdae’s_ the one who goes to visit his mothers. If it also helps him avoid hearing any kind of comments regarding his guardian spirits and pack of familiars, well, he considers it a bonus.

When all is done and the residents are ready to sleep the day off, Jongdae slips into the guestroom. In the darkness, under the watchful eyes of the hound, he watches the rise and fall of Kyungsoo’s chest, relief washing over him like the first wave of tsunami. 

Seven years have passed. Kyungsoo still looks the same, albeit older. He still has the same haircut, short and neat; the same round cheeks and rough hands. Jongdae wonders how his eyes look, now—if they were still worn-out, heavy with the weight of a world Jongdae doesn’t know.

When he goes to bed that night, Jongdae thinks about the seven years between them, and how when it comes to Kyungsoo, his heart still seems to beat the same as when he was seventeen.

✿

In the morning, Jongdae receives a butterfly message from his eldest brother.

He hears it before he sees it, the tell-tale twinkle whenever a butterfly messenger is near. Jongdae walks out and sits on his porch, surrounded by his potted plants and hanging vines, reaching to the trim of the roof and curling around the pillars. 

Mornings have always been his favorite time of the day. He watches the leftovers of dawn give way to sunlight, rising above the edges of the tall trees. He shivers a little, reminded that he’s only wearing shorts and the thin, oversized shirt he wore to sleep last night. He’s barely awake.

In his periphery, the small butterfly flutters. 

Jongdae smiles and holds out his palm.

The butterfly has pale blue wings with streaks of silver and ivory dots. A holly blue butterfly. Minseok’s signature. Just like Jongdae’s own green hairstreak butterflies, vibrant as the first signs of spring.

It lands on his palm, flutters once, and slowly unfolds to form a letter.

Most of the content was just their regular exchange. Minseok updates him about his family—his husband Yunho and their sons, Jongdae’s nephews: Eight year-old Jungwoo and four year-old Minhyung. This week it was focused on Jungwoo managing to hide food in various places around the house, courtesy of his baby brother eating everything that’s laying around, which includes Jungwoo’s personal snacks. 

Minseok had compared it to the four of them. How Minseok and Junmyeon used to do the same because Jongdae and Jongin didn’t seem to understand the concept of ownership. Jongdae chuckles at that, recalling all the shit the four of them got up to in their growing years. 

They were definitely worse, though. Junmyeon’s petty ass used to put hexes on his food, making sure no one but himself can touch them. Minseok made a literal freezer in one of his drawers and put counterproof locking spells on it. Jongdae and Jongin had come up with various ways to make sure it came back to slap them in the face. Literally.

Other than the regularly scheduled shenanigans, Minseok mentions that Jungwoo’s powers were starting to manifest. But what truly sparks Jongdae’s interest is how the boy was showing fire tendencies—like his other father—because that means he just won the bet he made with Junmyeon. 

His second brother had insisted Jungwoo would be a water elemental, obviously hoping for a new generation he can pass his knowledge onto. Minseok himself was a water witch, but he and Junmyeon specialized in different areas.

After he finishes reading, Jongdae goes back inside and goes on with his daily routine, with the addition of checking up on Kyungsoo. The other man was still unconscious, but seemed visibly better than when they found him yesterday, the color has returned to his cheeks.

Jongdae walks out of the room and prepares breakfast. Two portions in case Kyungsoo wakes up. After finishing his breakfast, he fills up Sehun’s bowl, leaves out sunflower seeds on a small plate for Zitao, and even some raw meat he found in the fridge for Kyungsoo’s hound. He sets the meat in Sehun’s old bowl near the foot of the bed, where the dog has been loyally waiting since yesterday. 

He doesn't take a shower, not yet. He needs to topple his overflowing cauldron over first, he doesn't want to have to shower twice. Jongdae slips on his sandals and heads over to Yixing's house to ask for help. He decides not to inform his guardian spirits on what he's doing, already imagining the two idiots stuttering when Yixing comes over.

On his way there, he goes over his mental to-do list. 

It’s nearly fire season—no surprise since Jungwoo has started manifesting—and with it brings a demand for season’s greetings potions. Jongdae will have to brew a massive amount, hence why he needs his cauldron cleared. He does have another cauldron set up in his shop, but he doesn't like brewing large amounts of potion in such a closed space. 

He also reminds himself to order the batch of ingredients for All Hallows’ Eve. There's still a few months before the 31st, but due to how high-demand guising and protection potions are during those weeks—it would be impossible to obtain ingredients if he waits any longer. Besides, he prefers having extra time to brew, keep stock, and overall set up the shop.

Like the fucking cosmic witch he is, Yixing opens the door as soon as Jongdae passes his fence. 

Unlike Jongdae and his abundance of plants and herbs all around and inside the house, Yixing's garden consists of precisely one type of herb. Starflower. A cosmic witch's most essential ingredient when it comes to clairvoyance. But Jongdae has never seen borages as pretty as Yixing's, the blue of the petals seems to shine under his care.

"Good morning, Jongdae," Yixing greets with a dimpled smile. Two cats are circling around his ankles. His familiars, Luobo and Lulu.

"Morning, neighbor." Jongdae returns the smile. "Have you run out of borage infusions yet?"

Ever since Jongdae moved into the neighborhood, Yixing has regularly used his service to make him starflower infusions. No matter how many times he refuses, Yixing always insists on paying him. So Jongdae lets him get away with it for half the original price, given the herbs are taken from Yixing’s personal garden, anyway.

Yixing leans on the doorframe. "I still have enough to last until the end of the month,” he answers, thoughtful. “But if you have the time, I was wondering if I could order some with dandelion roots instead?"

"Sure." Jongdae nods. He has dandelions. "I can also brew you some mugwort sweetened with honey. I heard it’s a favorite for divination these days.”

“That would be great, Jongdae. Thank you.”

Jongdae tugs on the hem of his shirt. “I—Uh, I actually came here to ask for help.” 

“Oh, I know.” Yixing grins. “But first, sit down. I would like to discuss something I saw while scrying.”

Well, fuck. 

Nevertheless, Jongdae obeys. There’s a small swing on Yixing’s porch, decorated with navy pillows dotted with stars. He sits down gingerly, mind racing through the possibilities of whatever the hell Yixing will bring up.

Yixing is staring at him with the look of someone who caught their younger sibling in the middle of sneaking out, a sort of all-knowing but indulging look, the kind where he's going to let you do whatever it is that you're planning to do because he wants to see the disastrous outcome. 

Jongdae knows that expression well. He's the third out of four children. Minseok and Junmyeon gave him that look too much for him to not recognize it on another person's face.

Yixing crosses his arms. "So."

"So?" Jongdae refrains from squirming. 

Sensing his distress, one of Yixing's cat familiars, Luobo, jumps into his lap. Jongdae relents and brings his hand up to pet him. The tension gradually leaves his body with every stroke on the kitten's fur. 

Luobo is probably around four months old. Small and orange, he looks like a ball of fur halfway through exploding, and is mildly alarmed about it, big blue eyes glancing around wildly; which is why he's perfect. Jongdae absolutely loves weird orange cats.

Like Sehun. His beloved, sweet and grumpy cat. A few days ago, Sehun had dropped a dead rat in the front of his bedroom door, and Jongdae was so touched he carried Sehun the entire day, despite the disgusted face Yifan kept making and the squawks of outrage from Zitao. Chanyeol, bless his bleeding heart, had gone and actually managed to bury the rat.

Yixing's voice shakes him out of his reverie. 

"You found a witch in the forest."

Jongdae fidgets again, and Luobo pushes his tiny face into his palms. He moves his hands, now scratching the space behind Luobo’s ears. The kitten purrs, satisfied.

"Your cat is very in-tune with other people’s feelings," he says instead, ignoring Yixing's raised brow. “Did you train him to do that?"

"He's a cosmic familiar. They’re in tune with _me,_ who thinks you’re feeling uncomfortable." Yixing's lips quirk up in amusement. "Again. You found a witch in the forest?" 

"Okay, _yes!"_ Jongdae throws his hands up in defeat. “He’s an old friend.” Then, he adds warily, "I'm going to be tangled in his shit aren't I?"

Yixing nods, eyes gentle but full of weight, like breezing whispers in an ancient forest. 

Jongdae slumps in his seat. "Is it bad?"

"No." Yixing shakes his head, gathering his other cat, Lulu, into his arms. The cat complies without fuss. "Has your crow, Zitao, been clingy lately?"

Well, now that Yixing mentioned it, Jongdae realizes how true it is. Zitao has been spending more and more time around the house lately. He comes over often, but never at such prolonged time, always preferring to spend his time doing Moon knows what with Luhan in the forest.

"Yes, but what does that have to do with—" Jongdae feels his own eyes widen. _"—Oh."_

"Mm." Yixing starts stroking Lulu's fur. "Good omen." 

Birds only follow a person home when they want to be said person's familiar. Crows in particular, come bearing good news—benevolent prophecies.

Zitao started shadowing him at nineteen, right before he received his Potions Master title, but afterwards Jongdae never really gave his hovering behaviours much thought, believing it to be normal bird habits, that they come and go as they like.

Damn. No wonder Yixing's divination shop gets good ratings. Jongdae should try out his tarot reading one of these days.

“Now that you’ve _weaseled_ the information out of me,” Jongdae sighs. “Will you help clear out my cauldron?”

✿

They drain the cauldron with success. 

By the end of it, Yixing doesn’t have a single hair out of place, meanwhile Jongdae's shirt is soaked in sweat. He was right for not showering beforehand.

Yixing doesn’t stay long, excusing himself as soon as they’re done with Jongdae’s cauldron, muttering something about a tarot appointment before he leaves, but not without taking a peek inside Jongdae’s guest room.

“He’s gonna wake up soon. Be ready,” Yixing said, dark eyes suddenly flashing silver and glittering. Like someone had personally plucked the stars from the sky and placed it there. His words had felt more like a warning than reassurance. 

After a pause, he also added, “The dog’s name is Baekhyun.”

Eclectic witches are truly something.

So Jongdae waits.

He drags a chair inside and waits by the bed, Baekhyun the hound at his feet. The dog seems friendlier once Jongdae’s started addressing him by name. Yifan and Chanyeol come by several times, carrying fruits for him to munch on as they complain about Yixing’s brief visit. For the nth time since living here, Jongdae has to remind them that _no,_ love potions are illegal.

It takes less than two hours.

Kyungsoo stirs, fingers twitching. Jongdae sits up straighter, heart thudding in his chest. 

“Kyungsoo?” He calls, careful. “Are you awake?”

At the sound of his voice, Kyungsoo’s eyes shot open.

“Jongdae?” He sounds disbelieving. Jongdae’s heart skips a beat at the sound of his name coming out of Kyungsoo’s mouth after so many years. “You’re really there?”

Jongdae feels his brows furrow, moving closer to the bed, into Kyungsoo’s periphery. On instinct, he grabs one of Kyungsoo’s hands. “It’s me, Soo. You’re okay, I’m here.”

He curses internally. Not only did he grab the man’s hand, the old nickname slipped out far too easily—old habits do die hard, he guesses, even if they haven’t seen each other in nearly seven years. 

“How?” Kyungsoo rasps, sitting up. “The last thing I remember is the graveyard.”

“We found you passed out in the woods,” Jongdae says. “My house is nearby.” He leaves out the details for later, figuring it would be too much to dump on the barely awake Kyungsoo. “What were you doing out there? Communing with ghosts?”

“Not ghosts.” Kyungsoo shakes his head, looking distraught. “They were shades. There’s a difference.”

In Jongdae’s periphery, Chanyeol and Yifan visibly stiffen. 

“How so?” Jongdae urges. 

Just like other eclectic witchcraft, not much is known about this particular branch. He only has a vague knowledge of what hedge witches actually _do._ Most of it are things he hears in passing, from the mouths of willing hedge witches or unbiased witches. The rest are childhood doctrine and traditional education that he had to unlearn through the years.

For too long, eclectic witches have been misunderstood, accused as heretics for derailing from the elemental path and lacking the spirituality to worship the Moon. They’ve only acquired legal rights for barely half a century. People who are against them and their practices are still well and alive to this day. 

That must have been the reason Kyungsoo dropped out from their elemental academy. It could have probably been the time he discovered his true path. Jongdae also wonders how Yixing does it, setting up a divination shop in one of the busiest streets.

Kyungsoo gives Jongdae’s hand a weak squeeze, as if making sure he’s still there. “Shades are malevolent dead. They don’t remember who they are and how they died. They roam the earth filled with anger and confusion. If they’re able to accept their state peacefully, they can move on.” Then he looks up, staring straight at Yifan and Chanyeol. “In some _extremely_ _rare_ cases, they can be repurposed. Given new life. They become guardian spirits.” 

Oh. 

That’s what Chanyeol and Yifan were when he first met them.

Kyungsoo starts frowning. Baekhyun must’ve sensed his discomfort, he jumps to the bed and curls on Kyungsoo’s side, heterochromatic eyes glowing in hues of blue and yellow. Again, whenever Jongdae tries to focus, Baekhyun’s form seems to blur around the edges. 

“Jongdae.” Kyungsoo sits up, suddenly frantic. “I need—I need to get back there. I need to put them to rest.”

Jongdae shoots up from his seat, hands pushing Kyungsoo down by the shoulders. “Whoa, dude, you just woke up.”

“You don’t get it.” Kyungsoo looks stricken, eyes pleading. “They’re so _angry,_ Jongdae. They’re in so _much_ pain, so full of hurt. They will not hesitate to hurt others. I can’t let them do that.”

“I won’t let them hurt you either,” Jongdae hisses, surprising himself with the vehemence in every syllable. “We thought you were possessed, Soo. I—I was so fucking worried. I can’t believe after seven years, _that’s_ how we’re reunited.”

Kyungsoo deflates, eyes cast downwards. Baekhyun nudges his side with his snout in reassurance. Jongdae lets go of his grip on Kyungsoo’s shoulders, taking a step back. His heart feels heavy in his chest. 

For the past seven years he didn’t let himself dwell on it too much, but there are moments where he’d let his mind wander. He’d think about being reunited with Kyungsoo. He imagines them bumping into each other in a street somewhere, or Kyungsoo stumbling into his shop, beautiful as the day he first met him and free of the secret that seemed to always weigh on his soul. Jongdae, too, would be free of his own skeletons. 

In all of his scenarios, Jongdae never expected this.

He doesn't remember ever seeing Kyungsoo look so defeated. His eyes no longer hold secrets, but they were still as heavy as they used to be. Exhausted. Jongdae briefly wonders when was the last time he let anything aside from his hedge witch duties take over; wonders if the world allowed him to do anything else at all.

“You’re in no condition to commune with spirits,” Chanyeol says gently, once the silence between them had become too deafening. His guardians had been so quiet throughout the exchange that Jongdae forgot they were still there. 

“Recover first. Later, we will accompany you if it's needed—but please don’t worry our dear Jongdae further.” With that, Chanyeol and Yifan slip out.

“It was nice to finally meet you, Kyungsoo.” Yifan smiles on his way to close the door. “I hope you and Jongdae can become good friends again.”

Jongdae avoids looking at Kyungsoo's expression when Yifan says that, opting to turn around and walk out himself. 

"You should eat. I'll heat up your food," Jongdae offers, eyes fixed on the back of the door. "There's also oranges if you'd like."

 _I still remember your favorite,_ he doesn't say. 

“Jongdae.” 

He stills, hand on the doorknob. 

“Thank you,” Kyungsoo whispers, “and I’m sorry.”

Jongdae turns around, fighting the urge to bite on his nails. “There’s nothing—” he hesitates, “It’s fine, Soo.”

“No, it’s not.” Kyungsoo keeps his head down. “I left you with no explanation. That was a shitty move.”

“Kyungsoo,” he sighs, the other looks up at the sound of his name. His eyes are wide, shining with unshed tears. Jongdae rushes over, old instincts commanding him despite the seven-year gap. He sits down on the chair and takes Kyungsoo’s hands in his. “Don’t apologize, I couldn’t possibly have known what you were going through.”

A tiny voice in a hidden corner of his mind screams. _Lies—_

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” Kyungsoo admits, returning the hold with a tight grip. “Though I’ve always thought of what I would say if I did. But we’re here now and it’s all ruined. I’m so sorry you had to see me like this, I’m sorry I left you. You were my best friend.”

“I’m still your best friend,” Jongdae murmurs, and finds that the words felt true. “I was hurt, yes.” He’s lucky Yifan nor Chanyeol aren’t here right now, the only witnesses to how broken he was that winter. The only person in the world who understood him, disappearing without a trace.

He caresses Kyungsoo's knuckles with his thumbs, continuing, “The day before, you summoned me to the greenhouse, but stood me up. I thought something happened, I was worried sick.” He thinks of that day, of the sadness in Kyungsoo’s face and how he vanished into thin air. “But it’s been literal years, Soo. I had time to come to terms with it. Besides, I’ve always had my suspicions.”

Kyungsoo sniffles, and makes a sound that Jongdae thinks was a snort. “Yeah, I’d be surprised if you didn’t,” he agrees easily. “You’ve always been brilliant.”

Jongdae feels his cheek warming, and hopes that Kyungsoo doesn’t notice. 

“We can talk more about this later.” He disentangles his hands from Kyungsoo’s and pats him on the shoulder instead, standing up. “We should get some food in you.”

They get out of the room to find the food already prepared. Chanyeol is hovering around the island smugly, like he’d expected this to happen. Had it not been for the gesture, Jongdae would’ve flipped him off. 

Yifan sits on the staircase, leaning on the post lazily, joined by the company of Zitao perching on his head, Sehun curled on his lap. A few seconds later, Baekhyun follows suit, sitting by Yifan’s feet obediently.

Perhaps his mothers are right. Jongdae’s house _is_ turning into a zoo.

Jongdae opens his mouth to speak, but the words die in his mouth when Kyungsoo stops in his tracks right next to the island. He brings up a hand to the fruit bowl, hovering over the assortment before taking one of the oranges and twirling it in his fingers as he holds it up to the light, observing it. 

“You said they were oranges.” Kyungsoo looks over his shoulder. “This is a clementine.”

“Same thing.” Jongdae shrugs. 

He’s never particularly cared about the distinction of ingredients. As long as they work fine with potions, then they’re good enough for him. Jongdae rarely uses citrus fruits in his potions, anyway. Fruits were mostly used to give flavor to internal, consumable potions, and he always tried to avoid making his drinks acidic in case people couldn’t stomach it; meanwhile external potions and ointments rarely used fruits, if at all.

Kyungsoo blinks at him. “Not really, clementine’s sweeter than your regular orange,” he says, not unkindly. Then he grabs the knife Jongdae left by the counter, and asks, “May I?”

Jongdae nods, hyper aware of Chanyeol and Yifan watching them, the latter probably more amused than concerned that Kyungsoo would do anything. 

He holds the knife the same way Jongdae’s grandmother used to, with expertise, comfortable enough as if it was an extension of his hand. He points the tip into the skin at the top and slices, rotating the fruit in one hand while the one with the knife cuts off the skin in one continuous motion. 

It’s almost hypnotizing. Jongdae finds that he can’t look away. 

“Here,” Kyungsoo says, breaking Jongdae out of his daze. Between his fingers, a slice of clementine is held.

Jongdae swallows, accepting it with a carefulness that is probably unneeded. He’s reminded of their days in the academy. Sitting by the river and exchanging food, basking in each other’s company. Kyungsoo always, _always_ offered him slices first.

“Thanks,” he manages, hoping it doesn’t sound as choked up as he feels.

Kyungsoo smiles, cheeks round and eyes turning into crescents. 

Something inside Jongdae’s chest slots into place.

✿

They all came to a silent agreement.

Kyungsoo stays in his house for the next few days. He mostly stays in the bed of Jongdae’s guestroom, or hangs around in Jongdae’s backyard, just sitting and basking in the sun. Sometimes, Jongdae catches him staring at the shrine there, but Jongdae decides not to think too hard about it. 

As expected of a familiar, Baekhyun follows Kyungsoo constantly like he’s a small puppy instead of a large messenger of death. Kyungsoo gets along relatively well with the other residents in Jongdae’s house—teaching Yifan how to cook, rolling his eyes at Chanyeol’s jokes, even Sehun and Zitao have obviously grown fond of him and Baekhyun, snuggling to his sides whenever Kyungsoo is idle.

With the beginning of fire season, Jongdae mostly spends his time at the shop fending off customers. He has two part-timers who usually help him out, Seulgi and Youngho, but the two are busy with projects and exams, which means they couldn’t come in as much as he needs them to.

Between managing his shop and brewing orders, Jongdae spends less time with Kyungsoo than he would have liked—but that still doesn’t stop the way his chest tightened whenever he comes home to the sight of Kyungsoo cooking dinner and looking at home with the spirits and familiars Jongdae’s considered as family.

They catch up during breakfast and dinner, light conversations about things in their lives, never too close to the topic they actually should be talking about. 

Jongdae talks about his brothers and his nephews, about his shop and his potions. In return, Kyungsoo talks about what he’s learned in the past few years, his duties as a hedge witch and the things he’s experienced, keeping it safe so it doesn’t escalate into anything else. 

It’s not like Jongdae can help how his stomach churns at the thought of Kyungsoo getting hurt. That’s just how it always was.

✿

A week after the incident in the forest, Jongdae comes home to his house in chaos. 

The first floor of his house looked as if a tornado had slipped in and spiralled inside with no direction. The tables and chairs were toppled over. Along with it, some of his mugs and plates were cracked, shattered on the floor. His indoor plants were overturned, soil tainting the corners of his house. 

And his back door was wide open.

Jongdae’s heart drops to his stomach. 

He rushes upstairs, heart racing. _Please,_ he thought, _let them be there._ He prays, quickly and silently. Using whatever that exists of his spirituality for the first time in years. _Keep them safe._

He finds Sehun on the second floor, hiding under one of Jongdae’s ingredient shelves in his workroom. In the same room he finds Zitao inside the small cauldron Jongdae normally uses for specific orders, his black feathers blending in with the walls.

Jongdae’s two familiars are positively frightened. Zitao is so spooked it took Jongdae several minutes to coax him out. Not with a lack of sunflower seeds.

But Jongdae is more concerned about one thing: the rest were nowhere to be found.

“Zitao. Sehunnie,” he calls gently, cupping the cat’s face in his palms. Zitao is also perched on Jongdae’s lap, still holding his feathers close to his body. “Where are the others? What happened?”

Something tugs at the back of his mind. 

_Ghost. Shade._

Jongdae looks down at Sehun. “You mean what happened downstairs was because of shades?”

The cat meows once in agreement.

“Okay, do you know where the others are?”

This time, Zitao starts crowing.

_Forest. Graveyard._

Jongdae feels his blood run cold.

✿

Jongdae makes it to the graveyard faster than he did last week, thankful that it wasn’t raining. He left Zitao and Sehun at the house, told them to stay in the workroom and hastily painted some sigils for security. On his way to the graveyard, he manages to call for Luhan and ask him to guard the house. 

True to Zitao’s words, he finds all four of them by the old shrine he found Kyungsoo in. 

What he didn't expect was what they’re focused on.

Chanyeol and Yifan stand across each other, seemingly forming a linked barrier. Baekhyun circles around them like a vengeful guardian, hackles raised. Standing on the head of the circle, with a hand gripping tightly on each of the spirits’ shoulders, is Kyungsoo. His eyes are wide open, but what sends shivers running down Jongdae’s spine is how they're completely white, devoid of any signs of consciousness. 

In the middle of their circle, stands a woman. 

As Jongdae walks closer, he realizes that she is less of a human and more of a ghost.

This was the shade his familiars mentioned.

He wonders how such a frail looking thing could do so much damage to his home, and tries to avoid the thought of whether or not his insurance would cover all that.

The woman looks every bit like someone who would crumble into dust if you laid a finger on her. Haggard and disheveled, wasting away with every second that passes. She was translucent, but in a way that’s different from Chanyeol and Yifan. Jongdae’s guardians were angel-like, bright and lively. 

This woman seems like there’s a perpetual storm cloud hovering over her.

But Chanyeol and Yifan used to be like this, too. Bedraggled shades wandering around the edge of the academy’s forest. Scaring away the other witches because they were filled with so much resentment. Then Jongdae started talking to them, breaking through their walls with his sheer stubbornness—until one day, they became the guardians he now knew them as.

He hadn’t realized just how big of a breakthrough—and out of the ordinary—it was until Kyungsoo explained it to him a few days ago.

Jongdae approaches them cautiously, careful not to break their concentration. It was obvious that Kyungsoo was using Yifan and Chanyeol’s energies, manipulating them and channeling it into himself, which he’s steadily directing towards the shade; slowly quelling her own malevolent energy.

Under his feet, a branch creaks.

The shade’s head snaps toward him.

“Fuck,” Jongdae curses.

Kyungsoo blinks, eyes returning to normal. “Jongdae?”

Jongdae would’ve replied, if it weren’t for the shade lady storming right at him. Behind her, he hears a chorus of yells from the spirits.

He expects to be thrown off, back bouncing off one of the gravestones. Probably dying on spot.

But the lady stops, right in front of him. Hollow eyes widening, head tilted to the side. 

“Jongdae—” Kyungsoo calls, frantic. “Get away from here, it’s dangerous!”

Jongdae swallows, instructing his rapidly beating heart to fucking slow down for a second, damn it. 

“What is your name?” He asks instead, staring straight at the shade, mind automatically recalling the first time he spoke to Chanyeol and Yifan. They hadn’t remembered their names until the day they became guardian spirits, so Jongdae doesn’t really expect an answer from this lady.

Up close, he sees that there are no external signs of an awful death on her. 

_“I don’t remember,”_ comes the answer. Jongdae doesn’t even see her mouth move. Her voice is nearly inaudible, like a whisper carried by the breeze, toneless and hoarse.

“That is alright,” he reassures. From his periphery, he sees the four heading towards them, watching the exchange intently. “You must be exhausted.”

 _“Yes,”_ the shade replies, _“I do not know why.”_

“Would you like to rest?” He asks. 

If she wants to become a guardian spirit and bond with him, Jongdae will not hesitate to accept her. He always, _always_ has room for more. He loves too easily, and does not let go. He knows this like he knows the precise ingredients needed in his potions.

 _“Yes,”_ she answers, this time with a slight tinge of desperation.

Jongdae does a slight nod, also signaling for the others to finish what they started earlier. 

Kyungsoo nods in return, standing confidently behind her, Jongdae’s guardians on each of his sides. 

Jongdae watches with bated breath as they resume the ritual, rooted on his spot, watching as the shade gradually fades from his vision, dissolving into thin air. 

Once it’s truly over, Jongdae takes a step back, nearly stumbling. 

“I can’t believe that just happened,” he muses, glancing around at all of them, gathered in the middle of a graveyard like a coven during All Hallows’ Eve. It’s barely even August.

Kyungsoo takes a step forward, staring at Jongdae with a calculated gaze. Jongdae feels himself shiver. 

“I don’t think you’re an earth witch, Jongdae.”

Jongdae’s heart sinks. 

He eyes Chanyeol, who is closest to him, and hopes that it conveys his need to be left alone with Kyungsoo right now. Chanyeol nods, then drags Yifan away by the hand, Baekhyun hot on their tails. Jongdae watches them go, making sure they’re out of earshot before he turns his attention back to Kyungsoo. 

“What makes you say that?” 

Kyungsoo sits down on one of the gravestones. Jongdae refrains from protesting about how disrespectful that is, but realizes that _that_ is probably the least of their worries right now.

“I’ve always had my suspicions in the academy,” Kyungsoo starts, and had they been in another situation, Jongdae would've replied with the same joke Kyungsoo had used the other day. 

“Out of every single earth magic, you chose to specialize in potions; a branch so practical that sometimes it doesn’t even need you to channel energy from the element. You’re one of the top students in our year, but _spirits,_ you were so awful when it came to casting spells and performing rituals.”

Jongdae feels his eyes water. “So why didn’t reach out to me, then?” he asks, old hurts and wounds clawing their way out of his throat. 

“If there was anyone in this world, who could have understood how you felt—" he continues, "—wouldn't it have been me?"

Jongdae knew, logically, that Kyungsoo _needed_ to drop out, knowing it would’ve been the same for himself had his own true path bloomed then—but what truly broke him was the thought of Kyungsoo not trusting him enough to share this secret. It was being left behind, and the loneliness he felt in the spring of his fourth and final year—which he well and truly knows, is a sentiment Kyungsoo must have shared.

After all, they were the only ones who ever understood each other.

“I couldn't bear the thought of you hating me.” Kyungsoo bows his head, staring down at his shoes. 

"I could never hate you." Jongdae's mouth trembles. How could Kyungsoo think he'd ever hate him?

Kyungsoo shakes his head, still in disbelief. "Even if I had known about you, our branches were different. My worst fear was coming to life, I was a hedge witch. The most condemned kind out of all eclectic witchcraft. Necromancers, spirit generals, all the heretics listed in our history books—they are all _my_ people."

“But you are yourself, Kyungsoo. I knew you, I would never, _ever_ hate you,” Jongdae insists. He feels wrecked, like he’s standing out in the storm with zero protection.

Kyungsoo cast his gaze downwards, mouth set into a thin line.

Always so stubborn.

"Don't you get it?" Jongdae sobs, wrapping his arms around himself. He continues, every word that slips out of his mouth a dagger unsheathed. “You were my best friend, my first love."

Kyungsoo's head snaps up, eyes widening.

“I missed you so much," Jongdae continues, voice growing higher by the end of his sentence, almost a wail. He drops to his knees across from Kyungsoo. “I loved you so bad, Kyungsoo. I still do.”

 _“Jongdae.”_ Kyungsoo sounds choked up. 

“You don’t have to answer,” Jongdae sniffles, bringing a hand up to wipe away his tears. “I just wanted you to know. I could never hate you, not when you hold such an important piece of my heart.”

Somewhere between reuniting with an old friend and seeing Kyungsoo navigate his way around the house, he realizes something.

Jongdae's heart, like his home, is packed to the brim with spirits and familiars—but it will always have room for Kyungsoo.

Cold hands touch his cheeks, framing his face with a gentleness he hadn’t expected. 

Kyungsoo is kneeling right in front of him, looking at Jongdae like he’s seeing him for the very first time. Eyes wide and shining, slightly wet at the corners.

“What if I wanted to answer?” He asks, lips curved upwards to form an affectionate, slightly amused smile. “What if I told you I’m gone for you, just as bad?”

Inside Jongdae’s chest, there is a bird taking flight, wings fluttering as it prepares for take off. 

“You are?”

“At the greenhouse,” Kyungsoo blurts, almost shyly, “I summoned you there because I wanted to ask you to the Hallows’ Evening dance.”

Jongdae’s jaw drops.

Hallows’ Evening dance. Their academy’s annual get together to celebrate the end of harvest, and the beginning of winter. Most specifically, the days leading up to the fateful evening where the barrier between worlds are opened—which means that must’ve been Baekhyun’s first appearance, confirming Kyungsoo’s identity as a hedge witch, all leading up to his sudden withdrawal and following loss of contact.

But Jongdae’s mind is stuck on one thing.

For their academy, the Hallows’ Evening dance was, essentially, the kind of event that you’d bring a date to.

_“Oh.”_

Kyungsoo grins, and closes the distance between them.

Jongdae’s been kissed before, but not like this. Kyungsoo’s lips against his own felt like coming home, like a puzzle piece slotting into place; a potion boiling just at the right time. 

“I love you,” Kyungsoo murmurs once they break apart. “I love you,” he repeats, forehead resting against Jongdae’s own, hands on his nape. "I'm sorry I left you."

“Say it again,” Jongdae says. “Don’t stop.” 

Kyungsoo kisses him with each declaration, “I love you—” a kiss on his forehead, “—I love you.” A kiss for both his cheeks. “I love you.” A final kiss on his lips. 

“Don’t ever leave me again,” Jongdae whispers, wrapping his arms around Kyungsoo’s waist. Pulling him close, close, _close._

“Never.”

✿

Kyungsoo holds his hand on the way back, glued to his side.

“We still haven’t figured out what eclectic witch I am,” Jongdae hums, swinging their hands.

“You were born on the September Equinox, yes?” 

Jongdae nods. 

“I also remember you mentioning it was during a storm?”

“Yes.”

“It’s.. rare,” Kyungsoo breathes, eyes widened in awe. “But I’ve heard of it, I never thought you’d be one of them.”

Jongdae scrunches his nose. “So what am I?"

“You’re a stormchild, blessed by lightning and thunder,” Kyungsoo answers. “That’s why the shade didn’t attack you.”

Jongdae shakes his head, heart thudding in his chest. “I’m just a regular potions master.”

“Yeah, you are,” Kyungsoo grins. He looks so adorable that Jongdae’s heart stutters for a moment. “That’s all on you, a hundred-percent the result of your own hard work and diligence. But don’t you wonder, despite excelling in a branch of earth magic, you’re still not as connected as others?”

He stays quiet, knowing what comes next but realizing that he will never be prepared for it anyway. 

“That’s because you’re not an elemental witch, Jongdae.” 

Jongdae’s breath hitches. Kyungsoo continues, stubborn as a rock. “You don’t need energy from elements, because _you’re_ a source of energy itself. You attract magical beings, both alive and dead, but in a _much_ safer way than us hedge witches do. After the storm, comes the harvest. After winter, comes spring—comes _life._ You are a point in the middle.”

They make it back to Jongdae’s house, slipping through the backyard gate. Jongdae sits down on the grass, dragging Kyungsoo with him, who immediately leans on his side.

“You’re a lightning witch, Dae,” Kyungsoo concludes, thumb rubbing over his knuckles.

What would Kyungsoo do, Jongdae muses, if he cries himself into a puddle right here, right now?

Jongdae’s family are moon dwellers, and have always been exactly that. His elder brothers are well-versed in water magic, Minseok is most powerful in winter months where the sun rarely rises, unbothered by the frost; Junmyeon has always swayed with the tides, the ebb and flow of the seas, commanded by Moon herself. Even Jongin, his air witch little brother who was becoming more and more of a hedge witch everyday, was still visibly blessed by her.

He remembers growing up. He recalls the times he spent kneeling in front of the shrine in his family home, through seasons and moon phases; waxing moons to the mother to waning moons to new moons—trying, and trying, and _failing_ to feel any connection. All the crystals and gems littered around his room, the beautiful and divine items offered as sacrifices, buried under the earth—all remained dead things in his hands. 

Having suspicions is one thing. Confirmation is another thing entirely.

“I love the moon,” Jongdae replies weakly, it sounded unconvincing even to his own ears. He spares a glance at the small, dusty shrine carved on top of the boulder in his garden, the one he’s catched Kyungsoo staring at numerous times. 

A housewarming gift from Junmyeon, who the moon always loved best. 

Untouched, but never forgotten.

“...but you don’t feel connected to her.” Kyungsoo finishes for him. 

Jongdae nods, and buries his head in his hands, trying to regulate his breathing. He doesn’t want to cry in front of Kyungsoo after all. 

He’s not ready to give up on everything he’s ever believed in growing up, not ready to strip away his entire identity at twenty-four—even if he was capable of doing it, he doesn’t know if he will make a good eclectic witch either. Fuck, he didn’t even know a lightning branch of eclectic witchcraft existed until a few minutes ago.

“I don’t know if I can do this, Soo.”

Something flies around him. Buzzing and chirping. 

Jongdae looks up and gasps.

A hummingbird is hovering near him, ruby-throat twittering louder than Jongdae’s ever seen them do. Yixing is the one with a bird feeder, and they’re not even close enough to where it is that a hummingbird would just randomly fly out here; so close to Jongdae, nevertheless.

He looks at Kyungsoo, who’s staring at him with a small, undoubtedly fond smile, the gesture softening his entire features. Jongdae almost looks away at the intensity of it. 

But he can’t deny it, every witch knows what it means when a hummingbird flies near, hovering without being called to. Everyone he knows has dreamed about it happening during their worst moments, lifting their spirits up, a rare display from the universe to show someone that it still cares.

_You are capable of achieving the impossible._

“You can do it. You’ve been doing it your whole life.” Kyungsoo nudges his shoulder. “You became one of the youngest potions master even though you didn’t have an ounce of earth magic in you. And the shades?” He starts grinning. “They won’t attack you because you’re a source of life—of energy—for them, but Chanyeol and Yifan’s transformations were all on you, your kindness.”

Jongdae buries his face on Kyungsoo’s shoulder. “Stop, before I start crying.”

He feels Kyungsoo press his face on his hair. 

“I’m here with you now, and I won’t leave you again,” he murmurs. “This time, we’re gonna do it together. We’re gonna figure it out and deal with the aftermath together.”

Jongdae looks up, seeing nothing but the truth in Kyungsoo’s eyes.

He asks, anyway. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

✿

**Author's Note:**

> If some things are still unclear, here's the general distinction of Elemental/Eclectic Witches:
> 
>  **Elemental Witches** — Studies and practices focused the four elements: Air, Earth, Fire, and Water. They all have an element that they personally identify with, which is required so they can channel energy from said element to help them on their (again, element-based) practices. By default, these witches worships the Moon, and usually forms covens. Witches with a certain number of children normally just forms a coven with their partner and children.
> 
>  **Eclectic Witches** — They can be spiritual, but often it's just not related to their magic. They're usually on very specific fields that makes them incapable of channeling energies from the four elements. Most learn to channel energy from within, work completely on intuition and knowledge, or they are born under a specific type of magic. These witches were often considered heretics, straying from true elemental paths. This perception has deteriorated in modern days, but due to the nature of their practice and rarity of the users, these witches still are often solitary, covenless.
> 
> If you made it this far, thank you 💕 Talk to me on [twt!!](http://twitter.com/layverse)


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